Orphans Beloved-Unconditional
by regertz
Summary: Like my Immortal Beloved bits in my Buffyverse stories, these are fragments and short bits, some longer…Just to fiddle with ideas, possibly forming longer tales later.


"Orphans Beloved: "Unconditional…"

Summary: Like my Immortal Beloved bits in my Buffyverse stories, these are fragments and short bits, some longer…Just to fiddle with ideas, possibly forming longer tales later.

Disclaimer: No copywrite infringement intended…

The ranch of the utterly extreme fringe of the extremist Proleithians…Main family building…

"Lord…" Dr. Henrik Johannsen, in his finest suit, hat proudly perched. His "family" of followers and genuine relatives about him, eyeing him and the feebly struggling figure in white next to him.

"We ask you to bless this, our wedding night…And to make it a fertile…"

"No…No!…No!" Helena, grabbing at him… "I'm bride of Christ. You don't touch me!"

"Jesus…Has made you my bride, Helena…And in His name will I seed you no…Christ!" he screamed as she clawed him. She fell back, exhausted.

"Best to beat the sin out of her, Henrik…" his oldest wife noted, the other members of the "family" nodding…

"Now, now…" he waved a hand… "Grace?" he turned to his red-haired daughter who frowned grimly at the demon from Hell and rival in the bed… "Get a towel…Helena? Don't make me have to put the fear of the Lord God Almighty in you, girl."

"I will kill you…" she whispered. "My seestra will kill you."

"There's nothing of God in her, Father…" Grace approached, offering a towel. "We should kill her before her darkness spreads."

"Mama!" Helena cried, suddenly. "Mama, take pity! Forgive me! Help me, Mama!" feebly frantic twisting… "Mama! Mama, save me!"

"You have no mother, abomination!" the oldest wife glared.

"Enough now…" Henrik, patting torn cheek with towel. "Mark?" he addressed the crazed young fanatic… "Go and get Helena's medication. This night must see the consummation."

Helena pausing in her feeble struggle…Eyeing Johannsen as he stood by her bed.

Very strange guy, this…

"Holy Mother…Save me…" she whispered. "Mama, pray for me…!"

"A whore of the Church of Rome!…" the oldest wife hissed. "Listen to her…"

"Orthodox, not Catholic, you crazy person…" Helena whispered.

God, to be raped by heretics on top of crazy…

"She'll see the Light soon enough…" Henrik shook head. Mark re-entering the room with syringe in hand.

Yeah…Church of month club…TV preacher…Helena eyed him.

God, Tomas…Who were you hooking up with? She kept still as Henrik took the syringe from Mark.

"Mark, stand ready son…Once I've seeded her, you may be required as well…" Johannsen noted. Mark, eager leer.

Yeah…Helena peered at him…Henrik checking syringe…

Dream dates, both…

Oh, Mother, help me! Forgive me!…Take me from here…Let me die!

Run, Helena…

She blinked…Henrik moving to grab her arm…

Screams as she suddenly smashed the syringe back, into his throat…He clutching at it, gurgling as blood spurted…Gasping…

"Kill IT!" the oldest wife screamed…

No sex? Mark thought, dimly…Feeling for pistol as Helena lept from the bed…

"Daddy!" Grace grabbed at Johannsen as he fell back…Blood everywhere…

Helena out of the room, racing, stumbling…The others, some too stunned, a few in pursuit.

"Kill IT! Kill It! Kill the Abomination from Hell!" the oldest wife screaming…Grace now echoing her, white-faced, raging as she knelt by Johannsen.

Shots flying now as several of the maniacs drew pistols…One crazed woman in her twenties, another "wife" of the cult leader firing shotgun…Helena dodging and knocking her down, slamming the main door as she raced out.

Where? Where? She staggered…

Child…A voice… Run, Helena…Here…

She looked…A figure…

Headdress…

"Mama…" she stared… "Mama?!"

Run my poor girl, run, my Helena…Faintest whisper…

Run, my poor baby…

Two young men burst open the main door, firing…A few others running from the main barn…She raced off into the darkness, in the direction of the whispers…

"HOLD IT, Freeze! POLICE!" cry…

She staggered to a halt…Recognizing a voice…

"Sarah?!" Art Bell's urgent voice…Art emerging from the darkness, gun in hand, staring at the figure before him.

Beth's friend…The nice detective…

"Help…" she gasped, collapsing…

"Sarah?" he went to her… "What happened to you?!"

She stared wildly at him…

"Did my mother send you?" she looked at him, fainting…


End file.
